


Midnight Snack

by Blame Canada (OneHitWondersAnonymous)



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kenny Is Poor, Late Night Conversations, Light-Hearted, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Short & Sweet, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, he's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneHitWondersAnonymous/pseuds/Blame%20Canada
Summary: Butters couldn’t deny that he enjoyed being spoiled. Kenny may not have been the most well-to-do man in town, but he did his best, and it made every treat tastier, and each act sweeter.Rated T for implied abuse (mentioned in passing). Bunny. Submission for the second day of the October 2017 South Park Mini-Bomb: Treat. One-Shot.





	Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! This is my first real attempt at Bunny, and I used it to fill the prompt "Treat" for the October 2017 South Park Mini-Bomb! This is very fluffy- that is your only warning. Enjoy!

_ “A’ight baby, get ready for some grade A Kenny McCormick special treatment action, because it’s comin’ your way in approximately ten minutes,” _ his phone said, and Butters cradled it to his cheek, as though the tenderness in which he held it could transfer through the call and kiss Kenny’s ear for him. 

“Aw, Kenny,” he said, his voice melting as much as his body did as he sunk into the pillows on his bed, “you shouldn’t have.”

_ “Too late!” _ Kenny exclaimed, loudly into the receiver, so much so that Butters had to pull the speaker from his ear just slightly. In doing so, the screen awoke, and the picture he assigned to Kenny’s contact made his heart even warmer. It was a selfie of the two of them together, but it was held by Kenny’s arm, not his, and that somehow made it much more magical.  _ “I provide only the best, and there’s nothin’ you can do to stop me.” _

“Nothing?” he teased, fiddling with the tassels on the ends of one of his throw pillows, and Kenny laughed, nearly as wonderful through the phone as in person. He had such a musical laugh, so full of life.

_ “Nothin’ at all, darlin’. Unlock the window for me?”  _ Kenny requested almost unnecessarily, and Butters nodded before realizing that Kenny couldn’t see him doing so.

“You bet! See ya soon, mister man,” he murmured coyly, and he knew he threw Kenny for a loop by the slight pause in his response. He cleared his throat and Butters tried not to laugh.

_ “You got it. See you. Love you,” _ he said, in that special way he always said it in which he put too much emphasis on the word ‘love,’ and Butters smiled.

“Love you too, Kenny,” he said. He bid him farewell without goodbye- he didn’t like the word goodbye. It was too final, too concrete, and whenever he said it, he had a superstitious feeling that Kenny would vanish before he got the chance to say ‘hello’ again. Maybe because he was afraid to lose him, or because the days he did disappear felt like torture, but either way, Kenny was a doll to never say it again.

When he hung up the phone, he couldn’t help himself- he let out a small giggle that made his ears feel hot and his stomach tingly, and he rolled back and forth with his phone to his chest in the nest of plushy pillows he wrapped around himself. Oh, he loved him. “I love him so much,” he whispered to himself, as if it might help release the energy that was building in his chest that felt like rainbows and tickled like feathers.

Carefully, with pointed toes donning striped socks, he crossed his bedroom floor and crept to the window to unlock it. He reached under the window sill and felt around blindly with his fingertips until he found the rudimentary notch Kenny had chipped into it for him, and, popping off the little cover fashioned from the displaced wood, he flipped a tiny switch. He gripped the sides of the window frame and tested it, pulling it up just a crack, and true to form, the alarms were left untripped.

Kenny had gone practically ballistic when his father installed the high security electronic locks on his window and door.

It was not a pretty sight, that was for sure, and Butters still felt bad to have subjected Kenny to his sadness. He tried not to cry very much, he really did, but that was a hard one. The sound of metal smacking metal rang in his ears while he cowered on his bed that night, as though his father was driving nails into his skull too.

They hadn’t been dating yet, when Butters begged Kenny for help in a moment of weakness. Even though the nails made it impossible to open his window, Kenny still perched himself on the branch of his oak tree the whole night, looking right into his eyes while they sat silent with each other, their cell phones connected so that they could speak if they wanted to, but for the most part did not. Butters thought that might have been the first time he loved Kenny, gazing into his hardened eyes that still looked at him tenderly despite the rage he could see tensing his shoulders and setting his jaw. Kenny had a protective soul, one made of gold and strong as steel, and it radiated sunshine from his immaculate smiles. He was also, luckily, good with technology, and he designed and installed a workaround for his window within the week.

Butters was startled from his memories by tapping on glass, and when he sat up to look at the noise, he saw another of those toothy grins, framed by dimples and freckles and old white scars. His hands were full so Butters hopped from his bed, moving as quickly as he could as quietly as he could, and he inched the window up bit by bit, careful not to let the wood squeak. As soon as he had it pulled up high enough that his arms were above his head, Kenny swooped forward and kissed his nose.

“Evenin’,” he drawled, a proud smirk on his lips at the way Butters tried not to giggle behind his hands, and he ushered him in, carefully moving away obstacles so he wouldn’t make much noise. Kenny was an expert at breaking into windows though, and he maneuvered like a cat off the tree and into his bedroom. In his hand was a cardboard drink tray that held two plastic cups, each filled with ice cream, milk, and flavored syrup, and a cheap fake cherry to top it off.

“Don’t I just feel like a sorta prince, now,” Butters whispered, and Kenny sat down on the floor cross-legged, tugging the strawberry milkshake from the tray and handing it over to Butters’ waiting hand.

“Only the highest of luxuries for you, my dear,” Kenny said with his usual bravado, enthusiasm shining through even in his hushed murmur. Butters sat across from him and took care to unwrap his straw at the very end so he had most of the paper intact. It increased his chance for a wish, after all, if he could get more paper to knot. Kenny watched him patiently; he knew the routine.

Butters loosely tangled the wrapper and paused a moment, closing his eyes, before tearing it apart. When he opened his eyes again, he saw two clean strips, one in each hand, and it appeared McDonald’s had granted him a wish once more. “Aw Ken, I dunno what to wish for anymore,” he said, the smile on his face hurting his cheeks, and Kenny smiled back, the picture of adoration.

“I can think ‘a plenty of things! Here, lemme try it this time,” Kenny said, and he pulled his straw wrapper to end up with a knot on one end, and no wish to speak of. “Damn,” he muttered, and he shoved the bits of paper into his coat pocket. Kenny never got wishes, and it made him a little sad.

“Maybe next time,” Butters chirped, optimistic, and Kenny’s scowl softened to a slight appreciative smile, the heart-melty kind.

“I doubt it baby, but thank you,” he said. He took a long sip of his drink, and they fell into comfortable silence.

It was a growing colder outside, and the combined chill of the milkshake and the breeze that swirled in past his curtains had him reaching for a blanket. He tugged on his favorite one within reach, an extra soft pastel blue throw that was part of the massive conglomerate of snuggly things he slept with each night on his bed. He wrapped part of it around his shoulders, and used his other hand to gesture at Kenny. “You’re gonna catch cold over there, Kenny,” he whispered, and Kenny chuckled breathily, so prettily.

“I got a coat on, I’m good,” Kenny said, and Butters started to protest, but then he scooched forward, crawling over to cuddle up close to his side and lean into his shoulder. “Won’t complain, though.”

Butters hummed and nuzzled his nose into his messy hair, noting that he’d recently showered and it still smelled like his shampoo. He held his cup with both hands, drinking the last of his precious treat until his straw started to slurp. Kenny had his tucked between them, and he took occasional slower sips as they embraced the world exactly how it fell around them.

Kenny was starting to fall heavier against his side, and Butters, knowing the signs, took Kenny’s cup in the nick of time before he became complete deadweight on his shoulder. His breathing had evened out and deepened, each exhale leaving him in a quiet hiss between a slightly unhinged jaw. The angel upon his shoulder had fallen asleep, but Butters was quite familiar with this routine as well.

He didn’t want to move at first, because he knew the slightest stirring would have him up in a flash and hyperactive to compensate. No, Butters didn’t want that; Kenny was clearly exhausted, having come over immediately after finishing a shift at one of this several jobs, and he knew he never got good sleep in his own bed. Instead, he drank the last few sips of Kenny’s milkshake for him, knowing he wouldn’t mind, and let his sighs of sleepy contentment puff against his collarbone.

Butters glanced at his clock- it was nearing midnight. He set the cup down beside his own emptied one, back in its carrier, and used both arms to gingerly adjust Kenny’s sleeping form to lie over his chest. Kenny hummed in his sleep and wrapped his arm lazily across Butters’ torso, slinging it over one shoulder and squeezing once in an awkward hug. He giggled quietly at his unconscious affections, and rubbed one hand up and down his back to comfort him. His body fit so perfectly against his own, for such an unusual angle. He hoped Kenny could hear his heart beating, and maybe its shouting of  _ “You’re wonderful! You’re perfect! Thank you, Thank you!” _ too.

The condensation on the sides of their cups was starting to drip and seep into the carrier they sat inside. Butters watched beads of water drop and disappear within the brown cardboard, and listened to the ticking of the clock above his closet door. It was off by an hour, but the minute hand was still correct. It was past midnight now.

It was well known, by any person in town, that the McCormicks didn’t have much. This unfortunately fell on Kenny, too, and he worked hard at several jobs to help keep his family afloat. Butters wished he could’ve had more of a childhood, instead of the rapid way he had to grow up to care for his siblings and, occasionally, his mother. As a result, Kenny didn’t know how to relax very well, or talk out his feelings. They were working on that, together.

A cheap milkshake from a fast food restaurant would ordinarily mean nothing, could even be considered subpar, if it was anyone but Kenny or anyone but Butters. Kenny scraped what he could together to get him that drink, he knew it, and that made it more valuable than the fanciest milkshake at the fanciest restaurant Butters could think of.

“How lucky,” he whispered, raising his hand to ruffle it through Kenny’s locks. He stirred from his sleep, chirping like a woken cat as of to ask,  _ ‘What? I’m up.’ _

“Nothin, darlin’, I love you,” Butters said, pressing a gentle kiss into the very top of his head and tickling his nose with his hair, and Kenny hummed again.

“Love you too, baby,” he mumbled, smiling and nuzzling into his chest a bit more before sitting back up. With a big yawn and a stretch Kenny blinked rapidly, forcing himself up so that he could make the trek back home.

“Text me when you get home?” Butters said, feeling the cold absence of his boyfriend already, and Kenny swiped the empty cups and drink tray from the floor as he stood on woozy legs.

“Always,” he said, and with one last grin and a lazy salute with two fingers that made Butters laugh, he climbed back through the window, and headed off to play protector in his living room. The paper straw wrapper that Butters had torn was still on the ground, a remnant that they both missed, and Butters tied both halves to pull again. He got both wishes, and with one, he wished the other could go to Kenny instead.


End file.
